


Imperfect People

by momothespicy (momothesweet)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Chubby Reader, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Kitchen Sex, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, implied PTSD, insert sweet references here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 08:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17977523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothespicy
Summary: Watchpoint Bakery is the home of sweet treats and a sweeter man who's able to see past your self-esteem issues.





	Imperfect People

**Author's Note:**

> Can you all believe that this has been sitting in my drafts for the LONGEST time and I managed to finish it only recently
> 
> All your usual suspects and my usual projection of Feelings in a sugary setting because we need to mix it up here (ha)

Coming into Watchpoint Bakery is like coming home if your home was a small pastry shop in the middle of a plaza that also housed a delicious taco place and an eyebrow threading salon. With your brows all cleaned up and your belly full of your favorite taco type, you step into the pastel wonder and smile at the tall blonde at the register. It’s only natural that Jack would be up front—he owns the place, after all, and he’s got a smile to charm even the grumpiest of customers (including you that one time your ex dumped you via text while you waited for them outside that taco place).

“Look who it is. I can tell you’ve got the day off and nobody broke your heart today.”

“Mhm. You know me so well,” you answer as you approach the display next to the register. Today’s goods look just as appetizing as last week’s, everything from chocolate croissants to mini fruit tarts to petit fours decorated with tiny sugar flowers and beads. You know Jack has an army behind those swinging doors, helping him do the absolute best work for everyone who comes in for something sweet.

“Looking for anything specific?” he asks.

“Mm, something for my neighbor,” you answer. “She helped me sew up some clothes I tore and I kinda owe her one.”

“Hmm. If you really wanna say thank you, I’d go with—”

There’s a loud crash coming from the back. You immediately look up and in Jack’s direction, where the door flies open and a very tall, very _handsome_ gentleman throws his arms up in the air. Cake batter is splattered all over the baker’s apron and on his face. His very handsome face.

“I can’t do this, Jack! Kid’s got butterfingers!”

You hear another voice, a kind of drawl, coming from the back. “I do not! You’re just a terrible teacher!”

He points to the door. “See? Got some sass in him, too. This cake isn’t gonna be done on time if we got him making rookie mistakes.”

Jack groans audibly, hands on his hips and shutting his eyes like he’s hoping the problem will go away by itself. If the tall, dark, and handsome baker is the problem, you can surely take care of it. Maybe. If you don’t fuck it up. If your brain doesn’t short circuit and goes into escape mode.

Turning back to you, Jack points to the man. “I’ll take care of our new guy. Gabriel will help you out instead. Sorry in advance.”

“Hey!”

“Like I said.”

“Uhh. Sure thing,” you say, laughing nervously after Jack heads to the back and you’re left with the Hottest Man You’ve Ever Laid Eyes On wiping away at the excess batter on his apron. Pastel pink over a black shirt looks good on him. So does the name Gabriel.

Once he’s got most of the mess off of him, he looks at you with a smirk more than a smile. You’re already counting down when you’re going to mentally crack.

“What’ll it be?”

“Oh, I—” you point helplessly to the display, “I was asking Jack about getting a thank you gift for my neighbor.”

“Huh. What’d he do, rescue your cat?”

You swallow hard and shake your head. “ _She_ helped me sew some of my clothes. My cat is fine, thanks.”

“I stand corrected.” He walks over to the counter on the opposite side of the display, plucking an inconspicuous cellophane bag of six assorted cookies away from a woven basket. “You can never go wrong with some chocolate chip and snickerdoodles.”

You shrug, fingers tangling in each other like you’re trying to mimic the basket. “That’s true. Looks kinda plain, though. Could you, like, put a bigger bow around it or something?”

Gabriel glances at you, eyebrow raised, before turning around to quickly fulfill your request. Back turned, he asks, “She make you a whole outfit?”

You wish. Looking down, you wrap your arms around yourself, hiding whatever baggage that may weigh you down during this conversation. “Nah. She patched up some tears and stuff.”

“Sounds like a nice lady.” Gabriel turns back around, sliding over the cookies now decorated with a teal polka dot bow he tied himself. It’s professional and, surprisingly, perfect. “You sound like one, too, if you’re getting her a thank you gift.”

Oh no. The pressure is on. He totally made a pass at you! Did he? No, you might just be dreaming. Except you’re not. And you know this because you fumble with your wallet trying to get your card out.

“Hey now, don’t tell me you got butterfingers, too,” he says. “I already gotta deal with mister bigshot in the back after this.”

“Right, sorry.” You hand him your card and hope to all the gods that your blush has gone away. Unfortunately, your brain suddenly goes on autopilot and you add, “I’m just not used to someone so cute up front.”

Gabriel looks up from the tablet, smirk faltering and letting out a nervous laugh you didn’t really expect from someone who looks so suave. “You sure you’re not getting me confused with Jack?”

“Positive.”

It takes a minute to process what you just said and you’re just about ready to head home and crawl in your bed to die. You take your card and shove it in your purse, then scribble your signature and dart out of the shop, cookies in hand.

You want to see him again. But it’s going to be a hell of a challenge.

 

You give it two weeks. Your neighbor enjoys the cookies and you share your good experiences from the bakery and Jack’s business. Only your cat, Onion, knows about Gabriel and how you nearly died in the process of buying cookies. A few of your friends are curious about your good mood the days following that encounter, but you’re not about to let out what feels like a hidden gem. Good thing they don’t like baked goods as much as you do.

After several outfit changes and an averted sob session, you head over to the bakery. Another day off, another visit to grab a sweet treat. You’ve been working hard at your job and you deserve something nice. Gabriel is definitely an added bonus. That is, if you see him again.

Surely enough, you walk through the doors and find Mister Handsome patiently wrapping what looks like a fifth box containing a gourmet cupcake, with the other four all lined up on the counter. The old lady asking for it trembles when she finally hands over her cash _and_ her coins. You don’t have to look at Gabriel to sense the tested patience, but you’re impressed by how he’s able to look so collected and genuinely happy helping someone out. It takes another long minute or so for her to leave (and you courteously holding the door for her), and now it’s your turn to talk it up. Hopefully.

“I remember you,” he starts as your stomach begins to flare up and your nerves jostle your gait so it feels as though you’re about to fall on your face. “Cookies for that seamstress neighbor of yours, right?”

You nod quickly. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Ah. She like ‘em?”

“Yeah, she was really into the snickerdoodles. I think she had plans on coming over herself.”

“She did. Got a whole lot of muffins and told me all about you.”

Oh no. Your neighbor is a sweet woman, so you shouldn’t be _that_ worried. The idea of someone talking about you to a hunk, though, is anxiety-inducing. What does Gabriel know about you now?

Cautiously, you approach the counter and shift back and forth. “What’d she say about me?”

“Nothing terrible,” he says. “She said you’re...what’s the word she used, ‘charming’ and ‘cute’ and ‘single.’ I think that last part is important.”

He’s cute _and_ he’s smooth? You’re not sure what you did in a previous life to deserve someone so beautiful gracing your presence. Unable to come up with a witty response, you giggle and tuck your hair behind your ear. “That’s all true, I guess.”

“You guess?” he repeats. “I mean, I can replace ‘cute’ with ‘beautiful,’ but…”

Your face burns a thousand degrees. “Stop. I’m just here for some cupcakes.”

“Alright, alright.” He laughs and you loosen up a bit and laugh, too. “What flavor?”

You tell him your favorite flavor and ask for the half dozen. There’s a fresh batch coming out through those kitchen doors and you focus your attention on those. Gabriel picks them off the tray and the person holding them, who you assume is the new guy since he isn’t Jack, pouts. “Hey! Those were supposed to go on display!”

“Too slow,” Gabriel deadpans as he packs the cupcakes all into a box.

The new guy spots you, then looks back at Gabriel, then you again. “Ohh, you’re that cookies girl Gabe was babblin’ about!”

This visit is growing more and more bizarre. You look at both of them with only noises of confusion.

“Get the hell back in the kitchen, Jesse,” Gabriel grumbles.

“I’m just sayin’.” Jesse snickers and skips to the counter for a short moment while Gabriel wraps the box of cupcakes. “His favorite spice is cinnamon and he likes to dance.”

“Jesse!”

“Yes, sir!” He drops his voice again and winks at you. “Good luck, pumpkin.”

With that, Jesse is out of sight and Gabriel turns back around to present you a lavender box wrapped in white. He sighs deeply and taps the tablet in front of him. “Guy doesn’t know when to stop yapping.”

“He seems nice,” you say, bringing the box towards you and sliding Gabriel your card, “but I guess the question now is if you’re going to be nice to _me_.”

“I can be,” he answers, swiping your card and returning it, “over some coffee next week, if you’re interested.”

This is a dream and you hope you don’t wake up from it, ever. “I’d like that.”

 

Things go slowly. Very slowly. You like it this way, no rush into baring it all and dealing out secret by secret. Coffee dates are doable because there’s a small, quiet shop that falls between your homes, though sometimes Gabriel mixes it up and takes you on walks in the park accompanied by his German Shepherd, Millie. It’s become clear to you that he’s seen some shit before he started baking with Jack, and you know it’s clear to him that you been through some shit of your own because every time he talks about your appearance, you instinctively recoil and change the subject, no matter how positive he’s trying to be.

He doesn’t say much about his background and past jobs; all you know is that he was in the military with Jack. His hands are coarse when you hold them and he prefers dates that are quieter and preferably around you and you only. On your end, you delay dates because you change outfits constantly and stare in the mirror until you find something wrong. Finding clothes is a hassle when you’d like to keep yourself covered, especially during warmer days. You have no idea how he can still smile and tell you all these nice things. Sometimes, you think Gabriel’s a part of this elaborate prank to play with your heart.

Neither of you addresses these issues, not because you don’t want to, but you both have all the time in the world to get there. At least, that’s what you’re hoping. You hope he won’t be tired of you then.

As an advantage to dating Gabriel (it’s nice saying that once you’re able to a couple months in), you get a private tour after hours in the kitchen of the bakery. Jack and Jesse don’t know that you sneak in the back with him, watching him lug around huge bags of flour and trays of pastries. You also get some of the leftovers once the bakery closes, and even after sitting in the display all day, the food is still damn good.

On a winter’s night before the rush of the holiday season, you lean on a counter and watch Gabriel pour a huge amount of cake batter across several pans. It’s tempting to dip your finger into red velvet, but you refrain and simply admire every muscle at work, not to mention the deep concentration on his face.

He looks up from his work and sets the batter bowl aside. “You look distracted.”

“Of course I’m distracted. I’ve been looking at you.”

“I could do the same thing, you know.”

“Please,” you snort, blushing freely now that you’ve accepted everything Gabriel says makes you feel warm and fuzzy, “what’re you gonna do, admire my huge thighs and belly?”

“Yes,” he says bluntly as he slides in the pans into the oven and sets the timer. “How many times do I have to tell you you’re beautiful before you start believing me?”

Your stomach turns when you shrug. “Only my sub-level self-esteem will know.”

“Hey.” Gabriel cleans up his hands and sets his apron aside before approaching you. “I know we’re not that perfect people, but we can at least cool it on the self-deprecation. Hear that does a lot more harm than good.”

He’s right and you don’t have the energy to argue. You can still groan in disagreement, though. “But I don’t have to say it, right?”

“Yup, so I’ll do that for you.” He unwinds your folded arms and wraps you up in his own to hold you close. “I think you’re beautiful and nothing will convince me otherwise.”

You smile and rise on your toes to give him a kiss. “That works. And I think you’re a good person and nothing will convince me otherwise.”

He smiles back, rubbing your sides and lifting you easily by the hips so you can sit atop a clean counter. It’s not long before you two share kisses, his surprisingly soft lips against yours sparking every nerve in your body. Without thinking, you bring your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles and pressing up against him. “How long does that cake need to be in the oven?”

“Forty minutes,” he answers. He kisses up your jaw and you feel his teeth graze your ear gently, making you shudder. “What do you say? We’ve got enough time.”

“Gabe,” you murmur, though you’re definitely not resisting, “isn’t Jack gonna kill you?”

“He doesn’t need to know anything about this.” His warm hands slide up your shirt, one that fits just right instead of something that’s a size too large and makes you look bigger. Another kiss and he says your name, “I want you.”

All this time and you two have barely touched each other. It’s long overdue, but you’re ready. You’re beyond ready. Those little steps have paid off and everything in your brain is telling you to let go, even just for tonight.

You kiss him in response, pressing up against him and tilting your head to your side when he pulls back and plants kisses on your neck. He nudges you back so you lie down on the cool metal of the counter, all the while he feels you up under your shirt and squeezes your breasts after unhooking your bra. In a way, you’re very much into this; being in public means you’ll both have to keep most of your clothes on, and you won’t have to worry about your anxiety getting to you about your body. The only thing you’ll have to get rid of are the stockings you show off with your skirt hiked up in this position. Naturally, he gets rid of those quickly, along with your soaked underwear.

“I need to know what you taste like,” Gabriel murmurs when he lifts your legs and drapes them over his shoulders. He lifts you high enough from the counter that he’s able to reach your pussy as he stands, your back making an angle with the surface. Arms hooked around your thighs, he teases you with soft kisses there, inching his way down and so, so close to that glistening prize.

“Please,” you whisper.

That’s all he needs before he presses his tongue against you, licking straight up to your clit and sending every pleasurable pulse throughout your body. His mouth stays right there, keeping you stimulated and wanting more and feeling nothing but Gabriel. There’s nothing to hold onto on this counter, and reaching for his hair is a stretch. The closest things you can grab are his fingers at your thighs. It’s not the greatest point for stability, though stability is not something on your mind when Gabriel is right between your legs and eating you out like a starved man.

“Gabriel,” you moan, pulling one of his fingers.

He takes the hint easily. Releasing one of your thighs, he presses one finger inside you with ease from how wet you are. It doesn’t take long for him to add a second, filling you up slowing and pumping in and out as you get closer to coming. You squirm, then squirm even more when he curls his fingers, adjusting himself perfectly to find that sweet spot inside you so you’re begging for him to get you off.

With a rough groan to substitute for words, you leap over the edge. Gabriel sucks your clit and massages your g-spot to the point where you’re coming endlessly on his fingers, moaning so loudly you can feel it reverberate in the entire kitchen. Some higher power is keeping you on the counter at this point; you don’t know how you manage to stay in your position despite all the thrashing and squeezing and cursing. As your high fades out, Gabriel retreats, breaking free from your thighs and sitting you up after sucking his fingers clean. Right away, he shares the taste of you through his kiss. You’ve never tasted this good.

Gabriel pulls back to undo his pants far enough to expose his cock, rock hard and dripping. You clench immediately around nothing, moaning for him to come back and give you what you want.

“I’ve got you, beautiful,” he says, slowly pushing inside with his hands firmly on your hips. “Tell me if it hurts.”

As endearing as ever, Gabriel takes his time, making sure you feel every inch that fills you. The extra kisses that dust your jaw and your neck help. Before you know it, you nod and signal for him to move. Fucking in the middle of a kitchen wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for your first time with Gabriel, but you’re not about to trade this experience for anything else. There’s something liberating about it. With every push, every kiss, every moan, you remember that your world doesn’t always revolve around hating yourself. You can live for moments like these, with a hot baker squeezing your ass and murmuring dirty shit in your ear when you pull his hair.

“You’re so good at taking my cock. You gonna come for me?”

You can’t answer that, not when you’re clutching him for dear life and moaning like a low-grade porn star. Gabriel manages to fit his hand between your legs, rubbing your clit and moving harder and faster. You’re lucky the counter is stationary and isn’t knocking against a wall or anything else. When he finds your g-spot, you cry out his name again, sweat dripping down your forehead and your mind totally blank.

“Come on my cock, sweetheart. That’s it. Be good for me.”

You obey without question. As you tighten your hips around his waist, you writhe in his hold, grabbing at the fabric of his shirt and rocking your hips with all the vigor in your system. Nothing feels better than this. Heat consumes you completely. Even your vocal cords sear the moans coming from your mouth.

It fuels Gabriel. Pumping his hips faster and faster, he slides his hands to your hips and holds you in place. When he comes, he growls in your ear. The primal noise practically arouses you again, pulsing around his cock as he spills inside of you. He kisses your neck, releasing your hips to smooth his hands down and up your thighs. At the same time, you quiet down, incoherent and dropping your weight onto his chest and shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks upon pulling out.

You nod, flopping backwards to look in his eyes and smile. It might be the post-coitus bliss or the fact that you haven’t gotten any in forever (or both or something totally different), but Gabriel’s gaze is divine. For once in your life, you can believe that someone is into you. _Actually_ into you. All insecurities and doubts aside, you’ve found someone to help you see that yes, you’re a pretty person, and yes, you can absolutely be sexy and have semi-public sex with someone just as sexy. You deserve this. Every part of it.

“You know,” Gabriel says, looking you up and down and licking his lips, “we’ve got time for another round before the cake is ready.”

“Ooh.” You mirror his actions, admiring every part of his physique, then kiss him. “Do we have time to clean up and have some cookies before we go again?”

Gabriel’s one step ahead of you. After rearranging his clothes accordingly, he tosses you a kitchen towel, then opens up a fridge nearby to pull out a carton of milk and a bowl of edible cookie dough in your favorite flavor. He smiles expectantly, and you can’t help but laugh and revel in his thoughtfulness.

For two imperfect people, you two make a perfect pair.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to me for winning my first deathmatch last night (as reaper ofc)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting are greatly appreciated. <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://peachofwork.tumblr.com)


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